


Angel in the Fog

by Two (GotNoCakeInThisPan)



Category: Dead by Daylight (Video Game)
Genre: Cannibalism, Comments Are Always Welcome, David has a secret, Gen, Torture, angel au, angelic nature, away from the fire, chiki wings!!, loving angel David rn, not really a ship fic sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-22
Updated: 2020-11-01
Packaged: 2021-03-08 17:07:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27150193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GotNoCakeInThisPan/pseuds/Two
Summary: David has a secret that he doesn't want to get out.
Kudos: 16





	1. Chapter 1

It was harder to hide it here in the fog, prying eyes everywhere they went, by they David meant himself. The Brit had wandered away from the warm comforting light of the campfire, strolling cautiously through the trees, occasionally making sure he was alone, or well, as alone as possible. A relieved sigh slipped from him as he came to a relatively secluded clearing with a pond sitting alone in the center. _‘ell, this’ll work, for now_ , David thought as he searched around the clearing, double-check that he was in fact alone.

He didn’t want anyone else to know, a secret between just him and the Entity.

David peeled his heavy coat from his back and slowly unbuttoned his shirt. Scars littered his gently tanned skin, many from his time here in the Fog others from his time in fight rings, some older than he could ever explain. 

A yawn escaped him as he stretched his stiff muscles out, rolling his shoulders to try and relieve the tenseness from his neck. The Manc sighed as he stretched out his arms, reaching around to his back to touch the ragged twin scars on his shoulder blades. It had been a long time since he had done this and he was starting to feel the repercussions of it.

David rested his palms against the rough bark of a tree as he finished stretching himself out. Alright, it was now or never while he was in the clear for being alone. He pushed himself off the trees and went to sit crouch by the pond, his reflection staring back at him in the still black water. With a deep breath, the Brit tensed his back and rolled his shoulders, he could feel the skin tearing before the pain was overcome by the feeling of relief.

Beautiful white wings had burst from the Manc’s back. Radiant light hummed from them, illuminating the area around David gently. A smile tugged at his lips as he wrapped the large wings around him, his fingers lightly running through and straightening some of his feathers. Specks of gold were hinted on the tips of each feather, shimmering within the pure white light. He missed flying, but that wasn’t exactly something he could do here. 

Golden tattoos glistened on his body, two gold rings around each bicep and decorative lines flowing around the roots of his wings. He remembered how he felt getting them done, the warmth of pride bloomed in his chest as he remembered the occasion. But enough reminiscing on the past, he had limited time to do what he needed to.

He spent a few minutes peacefully grooming his wings, having long trapped them within him to hide them away. They would only make him a larger target than he already was...as for the survivors, he didn’t want to give them false hope. He couldn’t do anything about their situation, he was just as stuck as they were. David shook his head, forcing the depressing thoughts from his head as he continued to groom himself.

David stood up, shaking the remaining drops of water from his wings. 

_Crack_. Feck, someone was near. David’s heart stuttered as quickly folded the large wings behind him, diving for his coat for better cover, but it was too late.

“D-David?” Of course, it had to be Dwight.  
The Brit inhaled deeply and sat crouched over his shirt and coat, staying dead still. Perhaps if he ignored the American he would simply leave...but, that did not guarantee what he needed. He needed for people not to know. Frowning, David slowly twisted his head to face his friend. Muscles tensed, and wings spreading, David could feel energy pulse through him as he pushed off, light a spear of pure light rocketing towards the other.

Dwight didn’t know how to process what was happening. Was David okay? Was the Entity turning him into a killer? But he had no chance to ask as soon a streak of hot white light rushed towards him. 

The collision was softer than he had expected it to be, within no time the Brit had pinned him to a nearby tree, towering over him with blind white wings trapping him. A single hand kept Dwight pinned to the trunk of the tree as David’s eyes glowed a similar white to his wings. “Dwight, you’ll nothin’ of this to no one, got it? I can’t ‘ave ya runnin’ yer mouth ‘bout this.”

With a shaky nod, Dwight agreed, “Al-alright, I understand. Are-are you okay, David? This isn’t the Entity’s doing, right?”  
The other simply sighed and shook their head, the wings contracting and folded back against the Manc’s back. “Ain’t gonna talk about it, cock. It’s none’ya business and the story is too long. Maybe another time, but not right now.” David ruffled Dwight’s hair before striding back over to his clothing, the once brilliant wings dimming as they receded into the scars once more. It only took a second for David to get dressed, leaving his shirt unbuttoned for the most part.

David rested his hand gently on Dwight’s shoulder as he led them back towards the general direction of the fire. “Like I said, keep it ‘tween us, aight? Puttin’ lotta trust in ya’, Dwight. Ya gotta keep this quiet.”


	2. A Feast for the Devil

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> :)

A low chuckle rumbled from the fog as the rapid clicks of a camera shutter went off. How interesting, David King had always piqued Jed’s interest. He had always figured something was off with the Brit. But well, he was certainly not expecting what he had just witnessed.  
A wicked smile formed underneath the devilish mask as a wonderful idea was concocted. Yes, that is what he shall do. The Ghostface stood, tucking his camera away as he swiftly strode to his warehouse. He had to make everything perfect. 

David sat at the fire watching the flames weave in and out of each other as his friends chatted among themselves. He hadn’t felt very talkative, his trials had been hell, he had died in all but one. Apparently, the Wraith was feeling just as shitty at that time because he let them all escape. The Brit had felt bad, the killer looked genuinely miserable so he stayed with the killer as long as he could, sitting beside the tree-like being, listening to the creature sob quietly. 

A long sigh slipped from between the Manc’s lips as he stood, murmuring that he was gonna go for a short walk to Bill who had been sitting beside him. He just needed to get away from the chatter for a second. _Christ, what I’d do fora fag_...David thought, itching at his beard

Mindlessly, he let his feet guide him through the fog-filled trees, winding back up to the small pond. Grunting, David slowly knelt beside the water scooping some into his hands. The water was chill enough to send a shiver through the Brit was he drenched his face. Sometimes it was just nice to be away from everyone in the Fog, you were technically never alone, spying eyes of birds watched your every move. 

He had the chance...a small stretch wouldn’t hurt. David let his jacket slip down his shoulders, tying the sleeves around his waist before tugging his shirt off. It didn’t hurt as much this time, the wounds hadn’t healed just yet so the skin would just break a bit more again. 

David heard the crows begin to caw and flap their wings at the sight of the radiant wings. Looking up into the trees, he quickly spotted the gathering of curious birds watching intently. Maybe it was a stupid and childish idea, but it was amusing enough to David as he stuck his tongue out and flipped off the birds. They were clearly just jealous over how much better his wings looked compared to his.

Such a beautiful sight, the stalker watched as just cool water and simple avians seemed to distract the prey so easily. The winged fighter never heard the ghostly footsteps as they approached him.

It amused the Ghost greatly as he watched the man drop unconscious onto the gross after a swift strike to the head. A gloved hand reached up, a symbolic motion to be quiet was sent in the direction of the murder of crows. The killer swooped down and hefted his lovely bird onto his shoulder, praising the Entity for his gifted strength.

A sharp pain flaring in David’s right hand is what awoke him. Something had been driven through his hand. His jaw clenched, grunting in pain as a hammer struck the metal, driving flat against his palm and into whatever David was laying on. Footsteps circled his body, the owner of said footsteps grabbing David’s left arm as he reached to try and free his impaled palm. The figure tutted at him and forced his arm flat. Whoever it was shifted, using their knee to pin the arm and the now free hand to hold the nail to the calloused flesh of the palm. The nail was struck deep into the flesh with one steady swing, leaving no time for the captive to thrash and possibly dislodge the metal, the hammer struck down once more, finishing the job.

The shock froze the Brit for a second, his mind reeling over the whole situation. But it was enough time for his assaulter to finish his job. A thick nail was struck through the tops of his bare feet, breaking through bone and muscle. The heavy nail was struck three times before it was deemed good enough.

The pain that coursed through left David feeling drained. It was not as bad as the pain from being hooked, but any movement of his body agitated the wounds, sending shocks of sharp pain through him. But it was not enough to make him scream. 

“Well, now that you’re fully awake, my little birdy,” a low smooth voice hummed as it circled David, “You will get to enjoy this as much as I~.”

The Brit was a mere second away from spatting out some snarky retort but was cut off by his body being lurched forward. What was happening? A pained hissed escaped him as gravity dragged his body down onto the nails. He, and what he now knew to be the most cliche thing to ever be nailed down to, were being positioned to stand upright. David heard the soft footsteps tread away. 

Attempting to get a look at his surroundings, David was pleased to know that he could see almost jack shit. The only light that shone was the dim glow of his wings. But even then, it seemed as if the void that surrounded him devoured the light. David went to lift his wings, wanting to make sure they were okay. But, he found them weighed down with heavy chains wrapped tightly around the roots. 

With ears strained, the Manc tried his best to see if his captor had walked back over but it seemed that he was still alone in the dark. 

In, out, in, out, then a deeper intake. David’s muscles strained and tensed as he pulled as pressed his left hand forward. Tears pricked at his eyes and a sob was stuck in his throat as flesh and bone broke as the head of the nail dug deeper into the wound.

“Ah, ah, ah, darling. I cannot have you doing that, we have not even gotten to the main event of our little date. I got all of this ready for you so you cannot just leave before the finale, little bird,” the voice hummed as a clicking noise started above David. The Brit braced to be struck by something but was blinded by a spotlight pouring its hot white light onto his body.

Hissing, David clenched his eyes shut before slowly opening them, allowing them to adapt to the sudden bright light. Glancing down, he caught his captor in the shadows, but he could tell who it was. The inky void could no longer conceal their identity. “Course its fookin’ you, who else would it ‘ave been? Really? Crucifixion? ‘At the best ya could fink of?”

The figure stepped into the light, gloved hands clapping. “While I do appreciate the pained sarcasm, I am disappointed to see you do not find it as amusing as I do. But oh well, it has its benefits for tonight’s events,” Ghostface stilled his hands before retrieving his camera. How poetic, how beautiful, to have an angel strung up within his studio. Quickly, the killer got to work, taking photos while drowning out the survivor’s ranting. 

“Quiet down now, I want you to save your voice. Because I’m going to give you a reason to be loud in a few minutes, my little dove,” Jed hummed, cycling through the images on the camera. “How delicate and beautiful you look, strung up like Christ. If only I had made you a crown of your own. Perhaps barbed wire from our dear Executioner.”

A snarl tore through David as he began to struggle harder, tearing into his hands and feet more. Rage fueled his struggle more as he writhed around, his actions rousing no reaction from the stalker. “I’ll fookin’ kill ya! As soon as I get outta this, I’ll ‘ave yer ‘ead!” He had heard of Ghostface’s activities, and he had no want to be apart of one. But seeing as strung up like some statue in a church, David could only reason that there was plenty more planned for him.

“Well now, since you seem so excited at the prospect of our later activities. I suppose I can skip a few of the minor ones and get straight to the climax.” And with that, the devil-masked fiend strode into the shadows, circling the edge of the light till he was behind David. “Now my little birdy, I suggest bracing yourself. This may take much longer than my estimated time.” 

Confusion washed over the bleeding survivor. He failed to see what the killer was doing behind him, but he could only imagine. The Manc’s ears perked up as he heard the chugging of a generator begin. Electrocution? Was that his plan? Well, the answer was soon confirmed as he hung tiredly from the cross unshocked.

The inner part of his mind knew what was happening, but David did not want to think about it. It had happened once before and the process to fix it took >i>years/, though he reckoned that in the Fog it would be fairly quick. 

The slighted tug at the chains caused the Brit to tense up immediately, he had to have been hanging for nearly fifteen minutes since the generator had started. He felt a tug at each of his wings at the chains tightened around the roots. Panicked curses cut through the air as the fighter resumed his struggle to tear himself free of the nails. A howl rolled through David as the chains continued to tighten.

Cheerful singing could be heard within the depths of the shadows as steps neared, “Well, it appears my side tasks took me less time than I predicted. So, I’ll make this a little faster for both of us. I am quite excited, I have tasted many different kinds of people, but never has my palette been so blessed to taste a being of pure holy flesh such as yours.” Promptly, the serial killer walked once more behind David. It only took a minute for the chains to begin pulling at delicate flesh faster than before, the chains being pulled in had become far more audible than it had originally been.

“Now, be a good boy, King, and smile,” Jed chittered, snapping more photos as he circled the almost painting-like scene. 

His skin was burning, everything felt on fire as soon as he felt the muscle in his back and the root joints begin to pull and tear. The skin on his back soon following, sending blood down his back. Soon, soon it was only bone and ligaments holding the wings to his body. 

Sobs of pure agony escaped the once-proud fighter. He could have dealt with them being ripped out swiftly, but it appeared his torturer had no interest in that. Instead, they continued to rapidly comment and take pictures of the scene. Their excitement was sickeningly palpable. 

_Snap_. The taut ligaments once holding such radiant wings snapped, letting bone and flesh fall to the ground with a dull thud. 

A scream ripped through the throat of the fighter as the pain hit him. Blood gushed from the wounds as much as tears ran down the tanned cheeks. Despite the blood loss and shock, adrenaline was coursing through David.  
Jed tapped his fingers in excitement as a low chuckle rumbled through his throat as he watched his muse struggle on the cross as he bled. “What a lovely expression, David,” the stalker hummed as the rapid clicking of a camera went off, the flash burning David’s eyes through the tears. “Oh to watch the mighty crumble, it brings me much pleasure. But it must hurt more than you could ever describe, no? Having such beautiful wings torn out, breaking bone and flesh, each twitch of your fingers and hands making such sensitive flesh rub against the invasive metal. Gravity dragging all your weight onto the nails supporting you…Tell me, Angel, how delightful it is to be strung up like Christ? Dangling in gross mockery of the son of God on a crucifix made just for you, it is truly glorious is it not?” 

A shaky excited breath rushed from the ghost as he set the camera down, leather-clad hands rubbing together as the figure silently moved to the blood-stained wings. They were heavier than Jed expected, but nonetheless, he carried them off into the shadows of the warehouse as if they were made of glass. “Let us commence communion!” he shouted back to his angel, eyes lingering on the struggling body before disappearing entirely into the dark.

Yes, he had to prepare his feast. Time ticked by as the killer carefully plucked the feathers from a single wing, planning to save the other and its feathers as trophies. He wasn’t scared of his muse bleeding out, the Entity was pleased with the swell of emotions feeding it, so why not drag it out? Each cut into the flesh was smooth and calculated, one must take care in preparing their meal of course. He spared no detail, properly preparing the meat into a full meal.

The smell of cooked flesh caused David to gag, he didn’t need to see what was happening to know. He hung limply from the nails, the fight slowly draining from his body as blood flowed from his wounds, but there seemed to be a never-ending supply of the red liquid. He didn’t want to move anymore, but he wanted out of this place, he wanted to be back at the campfire. The Manc gave a tired pull on his left hand, a pathetic whimper escaping his lips as the head of the nail pulled on the flesh sending another wave of hot salty tears down his face, a few stinging his lips. For now, he was going to rest his eyes...maybe sleep would let him escape.

Blurry eyes slowly opened as something sharp pressed against the skin of David’s torso. He was too exhausted and drained to react as the blade sliced through the flesh, the blood being collected into a glass of some sort.

“I suppose it is to be expected, the continuous blood loss must be taking a toll on your fight. Oh well, for now, it means a still statue, while I do prefer ones that squirm and fight this shall do just fine,” Jed said, his voice sing-songy as he collected the warm blood. Once he found himself content with the amount gathered, he silently waltzed to a table he had set up once he had finished his communion meal. “Now my darling muse...shall we get started with communion, I have the body and…” Jed paused for just a moment as he relieved a bottle of wine from under the table, popping it open and mixing it with the still-warm blood, “And the blood. The Eucharist the complete, is it not?”

“It hasn’t been blessed…”  
David’s words were quiet and weak, but Jed could still hear them and a smile broke out on his face, “On the contrary, they have, just not by your god.” The killer lowered himself onto the chair at the table as he began to feast on his unholy communion meal.

A defeated sob wobbled through the Manc, his eyes were getting heavy again. His head bobbing before finally slumping, eyes fluttering closed.

He wasn’t sure how long it was until he peeled his eyes back open, but once they were, the fuzzy picture was no longer of burning LED lights and darkness, no, it was the sweet orange warmth of the campfire. A choked gasp escaped the Brit and he jolted up, twisting his body around to vomit behind the long he was resting on, earning a bunch of groans from his friends. He was back, he was free, he was healed, he was safe...well no, he was just lying to himself at that point. David sighed, accepting the gauze handed to him by Kate, her fingers running through his hard caringly. “Thank you…”


End file.
